


Blind

by LarissaFae



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Blind Cecil, F/M, M/M, POCecil, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarissaFae/pseuds/LarissaFae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is blind, but he can see perfectly. Carlos is confused by that and a little creeped out by Cecil's possessive behavior. He gets over it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind

**Author's Note:**

> This ignores canon past First Date. Cry about it - I do what I want, Fink and Cranor. :P

The first thing Carlos noticed about the radio news man was that he was, by far, the most _average_ -looking man that he had ever met, paler than Carlos but not exactly white, as if someone had combined every human in America, averaged them out, and gotten this man.

The second thing Carlos noticed was that he was completely blind.

The third thing was that he didn't seem to _know_ that he was blind.

Carlos nearly started blurting out questions on the spot, but while it was a fact well known that he was rather socially awkward, he knew better than to ask complete strangers details about their disabilities until they made the offer to answer any questions he had. So he simply attempted to make small talk with the man, not really paying attention to what was being said as he formed several theories about the man's blindness.

First off, he ruled out it just being a very strange pigmentation of the man's eyes. His pupils were as foggy as his irises, and when he reached out to grab a chair to sit in, it was flat-handed until his palm hit the back of the chair and _then_ he spun it around with neat precision. One of Carlos' grad students a few years ago had been blind, and reached for things the same way. She'd also walked like the radio news man did, one hand held partially out in front to hit obstacles before he did. The man's eyes also didn't track as quickly or smoothly as the sighted's did, even though he appeared to be fully aware of what was going on around him at all times.

It had to have happened a long time ago, then - possibly a prenatal condition. The man moved with too much grace and assurance to have been recently blind. He had clearly developed other ways of sensing his environment - possibly through a form of echo-location, or perhaps the blindness wasn't a malfunction of his actual eyes, merely how his brain processed images. Possibly a combination of both, but then again, the milkiness of his eyes made that a bit doubtful.

Then the radio news man had asked about the clocks, and before Carlos could fully answer he had complimented the fit of his shirt and asked where Carlos had bought it, and as Carlos' brain always shut down in the face of blatant non-platonic interest from others, he stammered about computer models and beat a hasty exit.

He'd had some of the best sex he'd ever had with his blind grad student, he mused later that night. Now, granted, Carlos had had sex with precisely three people in his entire thirty years of life, so he didn't have much data to draw a solid conclusion from. But from his limited pool of experience, yes, his year-long relationship with his grad student had included amazing sex, until his worries of abusing his authority over her had ended things.

But not at first, Carlos conceded ruefully as he stared up at a dark stain on the ceiling. At first, he had been awkward, shy, and fumbling. They'd been drinking in his apartment, arguing theoretical models, and he had missed every single cue she'd sent, up to and including her hand on his upper thigh. Her sudden kiss had sent him jumping up, exclaiming about impropriety despite mutual attraction as he'd tried to head toward the door, and now, three years later, he was positive that she had deliberately tripped him. He also wondered why he'd tried to leave his own apartment.

Nevertheless, they'd ended up in a tangle on the floor, gasping into each other's mouths and skin and tearing at clothing with trembling hands, and when Carlos came early and was forced to explain that she was the second woman he'd ever been with, and only his third lover, she was more surprised that he had _any_ sexual experience. Then _she_ had taken on the role of mentor, and had spent many hours teaching Carlos how to not only control his orgasm, but how to please a woman. It had occurred to him some time later that her motivations in taking the time to teach him had been entirely selfish, because she then had someone who knew _exactly_ how to touch her, kiss her, and make her come every time they were together.

Neither of them had been happy to end the relationship, but even though she'd proven his complete impartialness in dealing with her as a student, Carlos had still felt too guilty and paranoid to let things continue. She'd gotten married, the last he'd heard. He wished her well and hoped she'd taught her husband as well as she had taught him.

\----

Cutting his hair hadn't stopped the radio news man from admiring him on air for everyone to hear. Carlos hadn't really expected it to, but he'd hoped the man would at least tone it down a notch. As flattering as it was to be so openly admired, even in a town that really didn't seem to have time for homophobia or racism, it was still embarrassing for someone as shy as Carlos, especially when the old woman with the angels had told him at the Ralph's that she loved his boyfriend's radio show.

His vitriol toward the barber who had done it - and the barber's ultimate fate - _did_ worry Carlos. The one man that he'd dated, early in his twenties once he'd moved away for college and was more comfortable deciphering his sexuality without his parents around, had been possessive and controlling. Carlos had been slowly warming up to the radio news man's seemingly benign interest, had contemplated finding a way to get to know him more, until the barber incident.

Then, whenever the radio news man - _yes_ , he told his colleagues, he _knew_ the man's name was Cecil but he preferred to think of him as the radio news man anyway, leave him alone and get back to _work_ \- came on the air, or mentioned him, or greeted him in public, Carlos tensed up and tried not to physically recoil. He was confident that he could stand up for himself now, if a partner ever got so controlling again, but he was more alert to red flags from interested parties since then, and did his best to avoid people who set them off.

The radio news man set them off.

\----

The radio news man was also one of the kindest people in Night Vale to Carlos. He never treated him as an outsider, and despite his not- _terribly_ -frequent public gushing about Carlos and his hair, he never actually tried to pursue a relationship with Carlos. Talk with him, yes, but the radio news man seemed perfectly content to simply relate his feelings on air every once in a while and to leave Carlos to his own devices.

Slowly, Carlos' shoulders stopped tensing whenever he heard the radio news man's voice. Gradually, the knot that tightened in his stomach whenever they met in town loosened. Eventually, Carlos started calling him by his name and even picked up his phone to call Cecil with news he felt the town needed to know.

After the unreal clocks incident, however, he was careful to clarify at the beginning of each call that he was not calling for personal reasons. Cecil tended towards taking things the … personal ... way. Carlos had become a regular listener of his show, and it was flattering when Cecil dropped his smooth narrative persona to gush over him. It felt … powerful, to know that Carlos was the one who had made Cecil lose his cool and get flustered on air.

Still, he was cautious. For once his natural shyness helped rather than hindered. And still Cecil never pressed, never pushed. Cecil just … was.

And then Carlos had descended into that tiny city and seen his life flash before his eyes, partially obscured by the smoke from the missiles and bombs exploding on him, tearing chunks out of his flesh. He'd fallen backward and blacked out, only to wake to flawless Russian being yelled as the Apache Tracker pulled him to safety before himself falling to the tiny army.

And then, sitting in shock with Teddy Williams tending his wounds, he'd heard Cecil. Losing it. Crying. In complete despair over the thought of Carlos dying. Carlos had thanked Teddy profusely and then hurried out of the bowling alley and to his car, hastily texting Cecil to meet him at the Arby's. He was fairly certain by then that time flowed differently for Cecil while he was at work, and that they would have a few spare moments.

And … there was Cecil. Flushed. Stammering. Fists clenched not in anger, but to keep himself from touching Carlos to reassure himself that the scientist was alive, his sightless eyes crawling over the bandages instead, taking in the torn and blackened flannel shirt, the tears in his jeans, horrified at what they couldn't see but saw anyway.

And Carlos had smiled. Cecil was, he finally decided, harmless, and the residual tension in his shoulders and gut finally dissipated. Night Vale was not, as he had originally thought, an inherently malevolent place. Malevolent things _happened_ there, and malevolent things _lived_ there, but Night Vale itself was pure and innocent. It had simply never been told that it couldn't possibly exist, and so it did.

He understood. At least a little. He understood enough that as Cecil, blind Cecil who nevertheless saw everything, sat next to him on the trunk of his car and looked up at the alien lights with him, he hesitantly placed his hand on Cecil's knee and was rewarded with a soft, contented sigh and Cecil's head on his shoulder.

\----

"Cecil …" Cecil turned promptly at his name and beamed at Carlos, a slight flush darkening his completely average cheeks. Carlos stared at his milky eyes and pursed his lips. "… Uhm. Hi."

Cecil's cheeks dimpled as he grinned and raised his hand to wave just slightly. "… Hi."

An Erika cleared its throat and they both stepped quickly out of the way, letting it continue down the cereal aisle. Then they both stood there, two great big dweebs completely unable to act in a rational manner about tentatively being a couple - if one date counted as making them a couple - despite, or because of, everything that had led up to it.

"How do you see? Everything? You know everything," Carlos finally blurted out, the thing that had bothered him so much all these months. He hadn't meant to make it about eyesight but Cecil didn't seem to notice his awkward phrasing as the attempt to cover up his blunder that it was.

He got politely raised eyebrows, as if Carlos had asked him why his shirt was blue. "Hm? Oh. That." He shrugged and tapped the center of his forehead. "Third eye."

"You don't have a third eye," was all that Carlos could think to say. Then again, maybe he did.

Cecil laughed, low and smooth, and it tickled the butterflies that were always present in Carlos' stomach when Cecil was around, these days. "Oh, it's not _actually_ a third eye. I meant in the metaphysical sense. It's the clairvoyance."

He said it matter-of-factly and was obviously eager to hear Carlos' scientific response - Cecil was _very_ into science these days, even when he had no clue what was going on. He didn't seem to know that science wasn't _actually_ a verb.

"… Clairvoyance." Cecil nodded again, serenely. "That … explains a lot." Carlos had come in for groceries, but now he was sciencing ( _god damn it Cecil, science is_ not _a verb_ ), fascinated. He peered intently at Cecil's forehead and leaned toward him. Cecil merely continued his serene smile and calmly rested the tips of his fingers against one another. The excitement over having Carlos pay him such close attention was bubbling under the surface, in the flush of his cheeks, the rapid blinking of his sightless eyes, the pitch of his breath. "And have you always been … clairvoyant?"

"Oh, yes." Cecil was smug, proud. "That's how the Voice is chosen."

Carlos stroked his jaw thoughtfully and Cecil silently preened under his attention. "The Voice?"

"Of Night Vale, dear Carlos. My show?"

All right, Carlos could work with that. It explained why events often revolved around Cecil, or at least his moods, and how he managed to be constantly up-to-date on events even as they took place. The time issue was still odd, though.

Cecil finally gestured elegantly toward the exit, indicating that they leave the Ralph's, and Carlos went with him. He'd forgotten what he'd come in for, anyway. The air was, as usual, hot, and Carlos reached out with a questioning look. When Cecil flushed slightly and tilted his head up he gently touched the skin of the radio news man's forehead, feeling to see if the skin or bone were … different.

"I told you, it's not, like, a physical third eye," Cecil murmured. He swallowed sharply, clearly enjoying Carlos' simple touch. That was fine - it had more been an excuse for Carlos to touch him than an actual examination.

"So … how, exactly, does the process work?" Carlos kept up the pretense of examining Cecil, slowly walking around him and pretending it wasn't just because he liked looking at Cecil, reaching out to touch him here and there. "If you've always had it, is it genetic? A … ritualistic ... thing?"

Cecil's sightless eyes tracked him and he sighed the sigh that said Carlos was being adorably uneducated about obvious knowledge. "Why do you think I have so many interns, Carlos, despite the horrific mortality rate? It's not genetic, I think. I mean, it's not a family thing. It just … happens. Voices are simply born, and when we're of age we're sent to intern at Night Vale Community Radio. If we've survived by the time the previous Voice passes, we get the job. We just … it's what we _do_. We're Voices, _the_ Voice if we're lucky."

Carlos accepted that. Understanding could come later. He hesitated to ask about Cecil's blindness, though, his fingers hovering at the corner of the other man's eye.

"That's part of it, too." Carlos jumped and Cecil grinned, happy to have startled him. "You can't See if you can see. It gets in the way. But I can see just fine, though."

" _How_?" Carlos asked plaintively.

His fingers were now pressing gently against Cecil's skin, and the man was flustered. "Well, uh, I just … _do_. I don't know. How do _you_ see?"

Carlos sighed. "Do I really have to explain how eyesight works to you, Cecil?"

Cecil just blinked his sightless eyes at him.

Carlos' cheeks burned and that made Cecil grin. "It's just a thing. I can't explain it. I don't need to see because I can See, better than anyone else. I can see things as they happen, I can see into the truth and the lies and everything in between, and I can see that you are _perfect_ and beautiful."

Carlos was sure his blush was showing even on his dark skin, now, but managed not to stammer. "What does it look like?"

"Like it always does." Cecil sat on the trunk of the car and shrugged, holding his palms out. "I don't know how to explain it to you, Carlos."

Carlos sighed and pursed his lips with a frown. "Hmm. Maybe, if you don't mind, you could come by the lab later and I could run some tests?"

Cecil's face lit up and he gasped with delight. "Oh, I'd _love_ to! Anything to further the cause of _science_!" His enthusiasm made Carlos laugh.

"It's fine. It's … thank you. Uh. Science appreciates it. I'm … I'm sorry about all the interns."

Cecil shrugged as his voice got wistful. "I had high hopes for Dana. I wish we could get her out of … wherever she is."

"I'm working on that, actually," Carlos offered. The sudden joyous shout and bear hug took him by surprise, much like the fact that completely average Cecil was able to lift him - six foot three and not a slender man - off the ground and spin him around. Carlos shouted a bit in surprise and Cecil dropped him instantly, looking horrified as he jumped back and clamped both hands over his mouth, his happy demeanor evaporating.

"Oh, good God, Carlos, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it. Like, really." He was crimson and shaking with fear and shame and disgust. "I am _so_ sorry, I know you don't really like to be touched, I know it makes you nervous, I was just so excited to maybe get Dana back but I shouldn't have touched you without your consent _I am so so sorry Carlos please forgive me I didn't mean to_ \---"

Carlos had shouted more out of surprise than anything else, and waved his hands in front of Cecil as he made shooshing noises. "Shh, shh, Cecil, Cecil, shhhh, it's fine! I'm fine. I was surprised. You don't have to apologize. No, stop. Apology accepted. It's all right, I'm fine, I was just surprised!"

Cecil was tearing up at this point and Carlos pulled him into a gentle hug to show he wasn't upset or repulsed by Cecil's touch. Cecil resisted slightly, then stood there and let Carlos hug him, his arms crossed tightly over his chest so as not to touch Carlos of his own will again. He was still whispering apologies so Carlos ran his hands through his average hair, then sighed and took one of Cecil's hands, almost having to force the average fingers into his thick black curls. That seemed to calm Cecil down, or at least distract him enough to stop the blubbering, and Carlos held him gently, hands splayed across his back and Cecil's forehead against his collar bone.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered one more time.

"Thank you," Carlos murmured back. "It's all right. You caught me off guard. I don't mind you touching me, Cecil - I'm just not _used_ to it. Shh, shhhh …" Cecil was finally calming down, his back muscles relaxing under Carlos' broad hands. Carlos cleared his throat and Cecil pulled his head up to look at him. Hugging a man in broad daylight without getting stares was new to Carlos. He gestured to his car. "Let's go for a ride?"

Cecil's smile was shy and beautiful. He wiped at his eyes and nodded. "I'd like that."

They got in and there was silence for a few minutes as they headed out of town, down the 800. Finally Carlos sighed. "I … so … I'm … shy," he started hesitantly. Cecil nodded beside him, paying very close attention. "Really shy. You might have noticed." That got a whisper of a laugh. "It … doesn't lend well to being touched. I mean, I don't really socialize enough to form the appropriate bonds that would make touching other people a normal thing to do. I'm just not used to that sort of physical stimulation." He kept his eyes on the road and chose his next words carefully, just in case Cecil's anger could reach outside of Night Vale. "Also, when I was in college, I had a boyfriend. He was … He … He was the first man I'd ever dated - the first _person_ I'd ever dated. I mean, I tutored a girl in high school, but it wasn't really dating, more like a series of one-afternoon stands when I was supposed to be helping her with her homework, but …"

He trailed off, embarrassed, and then cleared his throat. "I wasn't able to stand up for myself. I didn't know enough to see the warning signs. When you got angry at the barber over him cutting my hair, even though I'd asked him to, it reminded me of him." Cecil sucked in a horrified breath, realizing how he must have sounded to Carlos, but let the man continue. "And it took me a while to get over that. To realize that you weren't like him. That you, like Night Vale, are sometimes creepy, but still … harmless. Relatively. If approached with caution."

Carlos pulled off to a vista point and finally glanced out of the corner of his eye at Cecil and there were tear tracks down his cheeks. Carlos sighed and reached out, gripping Cecil's hand and squeezing. "You are _not_ like he was," he said firmly. "At _all_. The public adoration is a bit over the top, and I don't know exactly how much you had a conscious hand in what happened to the barber, but you, Cecil, are kind, and loving, and patient, and mostly aware of people's boundaries, and incredibly respectful of them when you are. You've let me make every move so far, and that one time after the clocks you realized immediately I hadn't meant meeting you as a date. I appreciate that. I appreciate _you_." He took Cecil's hand and twisted their fingers together, smiling warmly. "Thank you. For being patient with me."

"I'm so sorry, Carlos," Cecil whispered again, staring at their hands and then back up to Carlos' eyes. "I was out of line. I didn't think about what you wanted for yourself. I didn't consider that you were new to Night Vale. I …"

Carlos had unbuckled and twisted in his seat, bringing one knee beneath himself, and that tilted his top half more toward Cecil. "Obviously, I got over it." Then he just looked at the man.

"What is it?" Cecil finally asked, taking Carlos' cue and leaning in closer, their foreheads barely brushing.

Carlos smiled. "I initiated the kiss last time," he whispered.

Cecil flushed bright red and stammered for a moment, then _giggled_ and gently touched Carlos' chin, tracing his average fingers along Carlos' dark cheek. "Uh, yeah, I guess it's my turn, then," he said hoarsely.

Carlos nodded. "Yeah. I guess it is."

Cecil curled his fingers through the hair at the base of Carlos' neck and tilted his head just a bit, his breath hot on Carlos' lips. "Beautiful, perfect Carlos …" Then their lips met, softly at first, with Cecil always waiting patiently for Carlos to pull away when he was ready to.

Carlos wasn't ready to for a long time.


End file.
